


there's no you (except in my dreams tonight)

by thegalaxyeffect



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romeo and Juliet Reference, kara is stil sad, mon-el is still gone, post 3x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12398958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegalaxyeffect/pseuds/thegalaxyeffect
Summary: But then you open your eyes.And it’s like the sun drains away.





	there's no you (except in my dreams tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who decided to write another 'eh' one shot instead of working on the series I haven't posted for in months: THIS GAL. Those first two episodes, though, oh my goodness. After the first episode I was like, Kara totally thinks he's dead. And then after the second I was like, oh, she ACTUALLY thinks he's dead. 
> 
> Anyway, this has been floating around my head and as always, it was better in my head, but it felt good to actually write something for a change.
> 
> This show is totally wrecking me so I'd love to hear what you guys think about the show, and about this story. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Title from Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey)

It’s mornings that are the worst.

 

The sun streams into your window, bright and warm, and you roll over with a smile on your face, ready to be embraced and wish aloud that you could just stay in bed all day, feeling a scruffy smile on your cheek at your declaration.  

 

But then you open your eyes. 

 

And it’s like the sun drains away. 

 

Suddenly, you’re cold all over. There aren’t grey eyes shining back at you. You don’t see the man you love with open arms, waiting for you to scoot into his embrace. All you see is an empty space, an untouched blanket, and a pillow that barely smells like him anymore.  

 

The dull ache takes its usual spot in your chest and you heave a sigh as you try to grasp at the fleeting memory of the dream you just woke up from. 

 

You were on Krypton, you remember. Eating dinner with your family, you think. Astra and Non, Jor-El and Lara-- Kal-El being absent for some reason. Your parents were there, too. And so was  _ he _ . Of course he was, he always is. Talking politics with your father while your mother smiles at you, his hand undoubtedly finding yours under the table. 

 

You suddenly remember the red and blue marriage bracelet around your wrist in the dream, and that’s when you force yourself to stop remembering. 

 

Trying to hold onto the dreams, to what little you can get of him, is one thing. Imagining a future you will never get to have with him is another thing completely, something you won’t even allow yourself to entertain the thought of.  

 

You cover your face and dig the heels of your hands into your eyes until you see stars.  _ ‘The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars.’ _ You can almost hear him whispering it to himself, or maybe you, when he thinks you’re asleep. 

 

You open your eyes, watching black spots dance around your ceiling as your vision clears. 

 

Maybe he’s on the planet that the Durlan emissary told him about, the planet that he asked you to run away with him to. 

 

(A voice in the back of your head tells you that you should’ve just said okay and ran away with him. It’s a selfish voice, one that Clark has assured you that everyone has. It’s okay to have it as long as you don’t act on it, he always says.)

 

Maybe he’s bartending to a whole new race of aliens, cracking jokes only Durlans understand as he wipes down a counter. Maybe he’s being a superhero, seeing as since Durla has a yellow sun, he’d still have his powers. Maybe he’s being the man you always knew he could be-- the man you watched him become. Maybe he’s happy and safe. 

 

Or, a darker part of your brain whispers, maybe there’s a reason that he only ever shows up in dreams with your family who are all  _ dead _ , which usually take place on Krypton-- your planet that is  _ dead _ .

 

Maybe he never made it to Durla. Who really knows how far Earth gasoline goes in a Kryptonian pod. Maybe he made it just out of the atmosphere only to run out of fuel and drift endlessly in space until he ran out of oxygen. 

 

These are the kinds of thoughts you actively try to avoid. Usually you would find something else to distract yourself once they start, but it’s a Sunday morning and there’s nothing for you to do. So, you let yourself wander to the darkest parts of your brain.

 

Maybe he was captured by a lingering Daxamite ship and was tortured to death for being a ‘traitor.’ 

 

Or maybe it was all for naught. Maybe he’d already inhaled too much lead and he was dead before ever leaving earth’s atmosphere. Maybe you’d given up the chance to spend his last moments with him in some futile attempt to save him.

 

You know what Alex told you, that you saved him, that putting him in that pod saved him like your mother saved you, but it’s not an easy thing to trust. 

 

You know him better than just about anyone and you  _ know _ that if he was safe he’d have tried to make contact with earth-- with you.

 

But he hasn’t, so you can’t help but fear the worst-- fear that he’s dead. 

 

When your phone starts ringing on your bedside table, you almost don’t answer it. You almost decide that, hey, it’s Sunday, no one can fault you for taking a day for yourself. But then you think that it could be a Supergirl emergency, and even if you’re no good as Kara right now, you’re still good as Supergirl. 

 

You don’t even get a chance to say hello before your sister’s voice is in your ears, “Kara-- yes, Winn, she answered now shh!-- Kara, hey, I think you’re going to want to come down to the DEO, like,  _ soon _ .”

 

You’re there in just under forty-five seconds; there are perks to not having a speed limit in the sky.

 

“What is it?” Your jaw is set, bracing yourself for some huge disaster whilst trying to put away the emotional baggage you had opened up just minutes before.

 

“You might want to take a seat,” Winn offers, guiding you to his chair across from his computer. That’s your first hint that something is off.

 

“What’s going on?” This time it’s directed towards Alex, and she meets your eyes with this look that is somewhere between pity and elation.

 

“Just let Winn explain,” she says in a way that’s just commanding enough that you do it with no further questions.

 

“So, late last night or early this morning we received a  _ preeety _ tricky foreign transmission from a basically untraceable sender.”

 

“Okay?” Your fingers tap impatiently on the desk in front of you. 

 

“And after some very tedious decrypting, we were left with a message.” Winn wrings his hands, eyes full of excitement. 

 

“Which was?” Something in your stomach begins to churn and you’re not quite sure if you’re nervous or eager to know the answer. 

 

“Take a look at it, we’re hoping it makes more sense to you thank it did to any of us,” Alex says as Winn pulls up the transmission. 

 

Once Winn steps out of your line of sight, you’re left staring at a single word that has your eyes watering faster than Barry Allen can tie his shoes. 

 

Your chest feels like the air just got knocked out of your lungs and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

 

“ _ Mon-El.” _ You breathe out.

 

“He’s alive, Kara.” Alex says, but you don’t register her voice, or even the hand that’s on your shoulder. 

 

You’re too busy staring at a word that you never thought you’d be so relieved to see, a word that begins to thaw your cold exterior, a word that calms the ache in your chest, a word causes one tiny spark of hope to light inside of you:

 

_ Comets. _


End file.
